Tag Archives: buses

Take it Personally!

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God has been meeting us here in very personal ways, providing just what we need (or want!) at just the right time.  For me, there were 4 things that people either did for me, gave to me, or that were simply there for me, and nobody knew where they had come from.

Scarf

The day before I left for Rome I was given a scarf.  I put it in my backpack and really forgot about it until the first morning in Rome.  We had a pre-breakfast prayer meeting by the swimming pool each morning.  Rome was hot, but not at 6:30AM.  So having that scarf to throw over my shoulders was just perfect.  It felt like a smile from God.  I have also needed the scarf on the buses here in Malta because they are hyper-uber-air-conditioned and freezing cold.  After a roasting hot day, getting on a freezing bus when you’re all sweaty feels really good—at first.  But our bus ride is about 25 minutes, which is plenty of time to get frozen.  So again, having the scarf to throw over my shoulders has been a real blessing and a life-saver.

Pearl

In the Malta airport I found a pearl on the ground.  As many of you know, I have recently opened my apartment in Milan as a missionary guesthouse.  What you might not know is that I named it Pearl House because of a dream that God gave me while I was fasting and praying.  In the dream I saw people lined up on the sidewalk in front of the apartment building.  Each person had a bag overflowing with pearls in their hands.  When I woke up, I realized that these were missionaries taking the Pearl of Great Price (the Gospel) to people in Europe.  So finding that pearl was significant in a very personal way.

Chicken Dinner

Yesterday I took a day off from the Prayer Center to rest, get some laundry done, and work on the computer.  We have had all our meals provided for us, but they have been brought to the Prayer Center.  I had spied a can of tuna and figured that I would just put tuna on crackers, and that would be fine for dinner.  But then the dance team woke up from their nap and made a delicious chicken dinner, and they invited me to share it with them.  They were going to do the overnight shift at the Prayer Center, and opted to get a good nap and arrive too late for dinner.  So instead of cold tuna on crackers, I got a lovely chicken dinner with oven fried potatoes and a delicious fresh fruit salad.

Yogurt

This morning I got up early and caught the first morning bus to the Prayer Center.  I had a cup of coffee before leaving, but I usually don’t wake up hungry.  As I walked into the Prayer Center I wanted a second cup of coffee and something to eat.  My favorite breakfast is a crunchy granola cereal with plain yogurt over it.  On the kitchen counter sat a cup of plain yogurt.  There were 3 people in the Prayer Room, so I asked if the yogurt belonged to anyone.  They all said that they didn’t know anything about it.  But I know: it was a breakfast treat from my Father, who loves me personally and intimately.  God is good!

Tunisia, Italy, and the Dark Waters

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Malta sits in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.  From this vantage point, we have been appointed to pray for the nations surrounding the Mediterranean.  I was drawn to pray for Tunisia, and was surprised to read on the prayer sheet that Tunisia had served as the launching point for taking Islam into Northern Africa.

While praying for Tunisia, specifically among other things that it would serve as a launching point for taking Christ into Northern Africa and beyond, into all the Islamic world.  Then as I prayed I looked at the floor map and noticed that Tunisia is shaped like a keyhole.  So I prayed for Tunisia to open the door to bring Christ into the Islamic world.

As I prayed more, I noticed also that Tunisia looks like the blade of a knife, cutting between Algeria and Libya.  So I prayed that Tunisia would cut, dividing Islamic Northern Africa, breaking the Islamic hold in that region of the world.

Then as I heard the worship music, I began to dance on the floor map of Tunisia.  In dancing, I finally felt that familiar shift in the spirit that tells me that my prayers have been heard.  And looking at Tunisia again, I noticed that from the southern point of Tunisia (the knife blade); it looks like a big crack running between Algeria and Libya.  Yes, a big crack!  Hallelujah!  Crack the hard nut of Islamic North Africa!

Our host, Dave, shared this morning the vision he had had of a lighthouse on Malta, but instead of a light bulb, there was a flame.  And as it shined, it sent sparks that set little fires blazing all around the Mediterranean.  I had a similar vision of a lighthouse, setting off sparks as it shined its light.  In both cases, we understood the vision to mean revival.

Malta is a strategic place, sitting as it does, in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea.  Another vision that Dave had was of a great light entering the Mediterranean Sea at the Straits of Gibraltar, and crossing the sea (moving west), via the island stepping stones of Malta and Cyprus; finally arriving in Israel.  So again on the floor map we prayed and danced on the stepping stones: Gibraltar to Malta to Cyprus to Israel.

On a personal note, Dave shared a health concern about his newborn daughter.  He and Sharon (our hosts) were told that she has a rare disorder in which 2 facial nerves are missing, which makes her unable to nurse, show facial expression, or control her eyes.  Dave researched the condition and found that worldwide there are only about 3000 cases, none of which has ever been cured.  We prayed for little Bonnie, that God would do a creative miracle, putting the missing nerves in the place where they should be.  We also declared that this creative miracle would show the doctors who the Great Physician is, and turn their heart to the only One who can truly heal body, soul, and spirit.

As the night approached, I decided to go outside my comfort zone.  I signed up to do the first overnight shift of our 2 weeks of continuous prayer and worship in the MRPC (Mediterranean Regional Prayer Center).  I am not a night person, and when my pillow calls, I have a very hard time resisting its siren song.  But I had a cup of coffee at 10PM and went for it.  Since the last bus back to the house leaves at 10, I was committed at that point.

Three of us stayed all night: Karl, the team leader; Molly, and me.  A guitar player and a few local Maltese worshipers stayed for a while to help us get properly launched.  We started in joyous worship, singing, dancing, and playing tambourines and bongos.  Then we moved to more meditative worship and prayer.  The Maltese had mostly gone by midnight, but the guitar player, Herbie, stayed.  At 2AM we decided to go prayer walking.  We locked up the Prayer Center and headed into the cool, still night.  Lights twinkled off the water as we sought an open gate to the park overlooking the harbor.  All the gates were locked, so we walked around the park and down to the harbor.  On the way we passed a sleepy guard outside the Italian Embassy, and greeting him warmly.  Of course, he looked at us as if we were crazy.

At the harbor we found the gate to the passenger ferry open, so we went in to sit on the bench there and pray while looking at the black night water as it played with the full moon’s reflection.  The Transform teams from all the other countries had sent us prayer requests, so as Karl read each team’s prayer requests we took turns leading the prayer for them.  It made me feel a real partnership with each team as they seek to take the Good News of Jesus into each of their countries in a variety of ways: Bible giveaways, puppetry, dance, street evangelism, etc.

When he came to Italy, Karl gave me the task of leading prayer for my chosen home country.  The leader of this Italian team (there are 3 Italian teams in all) is a friend I’ve known and prayed for since practically the beginning of my time as a missionary in 2010.  Giuseppe does clowning as a way of sharing Jesus.  As I began to pray for him and his team, I could picture Giuseppe’s bright smile and imagine the laughter he brings with both his clown act and his message of real hope.

For those who are not intercessors or who have never tried praying for people in ministry, it can start out feeling like a burden, but soon becomes a pleasure, and a sweet burden.  The best part is when you get reports back of how God has answered your prayers on behalf of the person you’re praying for.  For me, praying for Giuseppe was the highlight of the night, although those prayers for the country of Tunisia were also pretty amazing.

Then as we finished up the requests for prayer, we decided to move on.  Herbie said good night to us there and made his way back to where he had parked his car.  We went to the top of a hill overlooking the harbor and watched a pilot boat and tug boat assist a big ferry through the harbor entrance and into port.  It was surprising the speed that the big ferry was moving as it entered the harbor.  The ferry made big waves that noisily splashed the rocks below us in a rhythm that reminded me of hands clapping.  Karl had taught us back in Rome about the power of rhythmic handclapping and drumming as a prayer tool (see Bingo Bango Bongo!).  I couldn’t stop smiling.

We continued our prayer walk into the center of Valletta and up to the Parliament Building.  As we passed in front of St. John’s cathedral, it chimed the half hour: 3:30AM.  The bell was very loud and startled us.  At the Parliament Building, I felt the urge to go put my hand on the door as we prayed.  I knew that there were probably security cameras trained on the door, but decided to go for it anyway.  I was not chased away, but almost as soon as I had returned to the others, a jeep drove up and let out a guard who entered the building through the door that I had just touched.  It was probably the night shift taking over.  They saw us, but took no particular notice, since we were just sitting on a bench.

As we passed in front of the cathedral again, it chimed the hour: 4AM.  Even though Karl warned us that it was coming, the loudness of the bell still startled us because it chimed exactly at the moment that we were passing in front of the bell tower.

When we returned to the Prayer Center Karl put on worship music.  He chose wonderful songs, but not very lively.  I grabbed a tambourine to keep myself awake, but found that my sleepy hands just couldn’t keep a rhythm.  So I switched to the bongos, which felt better for a while.  But while thumping them I felt myself slipping off into sleep.  Molly later commented about how I had drummed in my sleep.  Finally, I settled on an egg-shaker.  I stood on the map of Malta, singing and shaking.

Finally it was 6AM, and the buses would be starting soon.  Karl dismissed us, telling us that he would wait for the morning team and probably catch a nap upstairs when they arrived to take over.

On the way home, my sleep-deprived brain was terrified of missing our stop, so when I saw an area that looked familiar I ringed and we got off—probably 5 stops too soon.  Molly was a very good sport about it.  We both knew that the enemy would try to use that mistake to set us against each other, so we remained determined to stay united in love—and really, Molly gets all the credit for that, since it was my mistake.

God is good!  Even when we blunder and cause problems for each other, God is always good!

Dream Big!

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Day Eight

After writing about all my devil dreams, I didn’t want to leave the impression that I only dream about the devil or even mostly dream about the devil—nothing of the sort!  I dream God dreams all the time.  In fact, so many that sometimes I am in danger of forgetting them.

In my book, Laughing in My Dreams © 2012 Alisa K. Brown, www.lulu.com, I told about some of my dream confirmations about getting this apartment, but I had forgotten to write about one dream that was particularly beautiful.

The dream came in 2 parts.  In the first part I was on a bus with Giulietta, the wife of the Music Pastor at my Italian church.  Giulietta is a professional dancer, and dances mostly modern dance and ballet.  So, Giulietta and I were on a bus, going to see my apartment (which I was fasting and praying to get).  The bus was filled with people from church.  Elisa said, “The Lord will give you every place where you put your feet.”

When we got to the door of the apartment I woke up.  I started praying, thanking God for my apartment, and fell asleep again.  The dream continued right from where it had left off.

The bus arrived in front of the apartment—and there is a bus that passes right in front of the apartment, for real, though it stops in the next block.  We went inside and immediately Giulietta started praying in Hebrew.  Her prayer became a song, and although I don’t understand Hebrew, I recognized that it was a song of conquest and victory.  As Elisa sang everybody began to dance, touching all the walls, the windows, the doors, the furniture, etc. (even though it was an unfurnished apartment, it has furniture in my dream).  Then one after another, the people left, and finally Giulietta left, too, and I was alone in my apartment.

This dream came when I needed reassurance that I was on the right track.  Of the people who knew that I was fasting and praying for this particular apartment, only Bethany was truly supportive.  The rest would try gently to persuade me that I should probably look for an apartment in a less expensive part of town.  But not long after this dream, I had a breakthrough.  And now I am in the apartment.

Now, while I am fasting and praying for understand for End Times strategies and preparation, I know that I am on the right track.  Breakthrough is coming.

This morning I got on the bus to go to church, and the bus got about 10 blocks from home, stopped and had everyone get off because the Stramilano marathon was blocking the bus route.  The driver then turned the bus around and went back the way we had come.  I went to the tram stop, but the tram was also blocked.  So I went back to the train station about 5 blocks away.  But by the time I got there I was so exhausted and weak (fasting and physical exertion do not go together!) that I decided just to go home and pray instead.

There is a beautiful golden church at the end of my block, and just as I got to the corner, I stopped.  There was procession of 4 priests and 2 altar boys carrying gold crosses and incense censers, and maybe 4 parishioners with olive branches in their hands.  I watched as they crossed the street toward me.  I had forgotten that it was Palm Sunday today.  (In Italy, they use olive branches instead of palm fronds.)

In my prayer time, I felt such a strong presence of God that I hadn’t felt in a long time.  An hour passed very quickly, then another.  We didn’t spend a lot of time speaking to each other, we just embraced and cuddled.  It was really wonderful.

I’m not advocating skipping church, and I’ll go to an afternoon service in a little while.  But God is willing to meet you whenever and wherever you seek Him.  He might even send a procession to meet you!  God is good!

Hey American Girl, Lighten Up!

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Note: I started writing this on Friday, but got busy and didn’t finish it until today.

Yesterday I learned that there would be the screening of a documentary about human trafficking in Bologna: Nefarious.  Human trafficking is an issue that I have been intensely interested in ever since attending an International Justice Mission informational event at the University of Texas.

I was an usher with the Texas Performing Arts Center.  I had become an usher because a dear friend is an usher at the San Francisco Opera House.  About 6 months after my divorce, I went to visit her, and she arranged for me to work as a guest usher.  I handed out programs at one of the main doors, and got to watch La Traviata for free.  I was hooked.  Since I don’t own a television, it was a good way to get out among people and see some entertainment for free.  TPA, which is on the campus of the University of Texas, hosts operas, ballets, plays, musicals, concerts, etc.   They required that all ushers work a variety of events, and not only “entertainments.”  These included student events like commencements, workshops, and informational events like IJM, all of which we are free to choose.

When I learned that IJM was a Christian event, I signed up, even though I didn’t know what it was.  The auditorium was packed out, so I stood at the back, fascinated and horrified, and heard story after story of women kidnapped and put to work in brothels far from their homes; men who had been tricked into working off bogus debts while living captive in squalor; and even children sold into the sex trade.  There were success stories of people liberated, but clearly the vast majority had not been affected yet.  The most encouraging thing about that evening was seeing the response of the students.  I realized that only young, idealistic, committed people could ever make an impact on the trade in human trafficking.  Most people my age feel bad about the situation, but never do anything, having had our idealism beaten out of us by life.

It was only after returning to Europe as a missionary that I became aware of the prevalence of human trafficking here.  I started educating myself on the subject, reading as many books about human trafficking as I could get my hands on.  Over time, I started to notice just how many people in my city, and even in my own neighborhood, have probably been trafficked here.  It’s shocking.  A few times I have had the opportunity to talk frankly with these trafficked people, but mostly it’s not possible because they speak neither English nor Italian.  Here are a few of the different slaves I have seen:

  • The girl from China who cuts hair 15 hours a day in a busy salon that charges prices so low they can’t possibly pay her a living wage
  • The man from Sri Lanka who goes from restaurant to restaurant selling flowers, bringing all the proceeds back to his “boss”
  • The teenaged girl from Romania standing on the street corner waiting for a man to pick her up in his car and take her away for sex
  • The man from Vietnam who washes dishes in a restaurant for 12 hours a day, every day, with no day off
  • The woman from Thailand who works all day sewing, weaving, and mending in the dingy room in the back of the tailor shop

If any of these people sound familiar to you, understand that their fellow slaves are in your town, too—yes, even in the United States.  Check out the Slavery Map: www.notforsalecampaign.org/slavery-map

So that is how I became interested in human trafficking, and why I’m going to Bologna to see the screening of Nefarious.  The friend who told me about the screening is Annie, a missionary from the US.  In fact, we decided to go together.  So I booked us a hotel room because our friends there all have full houses because of the screening.  In trying once again to buy train tickets on the internet, I found that the website still didn’t work right.  I don’t live terribly far from the train station, but I am busy enough that I wasn’t happy about having to go down there to do something that, in theory, I should be able to do online.

At the first opportunity, I went to buy train tickets.  Usually I buy train tickets from the machine so that I don’t have to stand in the long line.  The machine also wasn’t working, so I went into the ticket office.  One big improvement is that there is no line now, but a machine that gives you a number instead.  That’s nice.  Now if they would just give us some chairs, things would be even better.  When my number came up I went to the window and asked for my trains.  I found that the price was slightly higher than the internet price, which might be due to being closer to the date of travel or the special priced tickets having been sold out.  Still, it wasn’t much higher than expected.

As we finished the transaction, I asked the ticket seller why the train company’s website never seems to work when it comes to buying tickets online.  He said, “If everything worked as expected, then there would be no surprises.  We Italians have learned to live with these inefficiencies.”  I replied, “I’m American, and we expect things to work as they should.”  He just smiled and said, “That’s your problem.  When things don’t work as they should, it’s trouble and chaos for you.”  That’s when I realized that God was speaking to me through this man.  It’s the same lesson He’s been teaching me since I began the Faith Trip almost 2 years ago: relax, don’t worry, and remember that God is in control of it all.

How embarrassing to have to keep learning the same lesson again and again!  I was so sure that I knew it!  In fact, I have written about not being worried about missing trains, buses, or planes: A-DivineAppointment and I-missed-the-train-but-made-it-to-the-divine-appointment, and older posts.  But I do intend to make it to the train (and the film) on time.

Thank God that He’s so patient with me!  God is good!

Indy Go!

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Greetings from Indianapolis!  I am here at the International Conference on Missions (ICOM http://www.theicom.org/conference) with Sally, the brains behind GoMissions, European Faith Missions’ new partner in ministry.  Sally and I are here exhibiting for GoMissions (http://www.gomissions.eu/), an online bulletin board for matching missionaries with mission opportunities in Europe.

Indianapolis is the cleanest, most graffiti-free city I think I’ve ever seen.  And when I commented on that to local people, the answer has come back:  police presence.  I believe it because every time I’ve gone out the door of the hotel, there has been a police car, either parked nearby or passing by on the street.  Every morning at breakfast, there is a group of 5 or 6 police officers who take a break here.

One officer told me that the campaign against graffiti started about 5 years ago, and that it has been an important weapon in the suppression of inner city gangs.  I guess I had never thought of it before.  My only experience of gangs is limited to the musical “West Side Story.”  And I remember that in the first scenes, in fact it’s in the opening credits, the Sharks and Jets dance around marking their turf with graffiti.  Anyway, the result is that Indianapolis is both very clean and feels safe.

Meanwhile, back at the conference, the need for missionaries in Europe is still obviously very much misunderstood here in the US.  When I point out that even people with running water and modern conveniences need a Savior, almost invariably the person responds that America is also a mission field.  I don’t deny the truth of that, but the people who say it tend to be people who are not actively sharing the Gospel here, either.  Interestingly, the people who best understand the need for missionaries in Europe are missionaries serving in other parts of the world.  They know that Europe is the least Christian continent on Earth.

I wouldn’t say that we should stop sending missionaries to Africa because there is still a need there, but Africa is way more Christian than Europe.  In fact, now there is an organization of African missionaries to Europe:  GATE, Gift from Africa to Europe (http://gate-mission.org/GATE%20Flyer.pdf).

And many people who say that they feel called to missions say in the very next breath: “But I could never live without running water.”  Well, Europe is more likely where they are called because those called to live in deserts love the deserts and desert people; those called to live in the jungle love the jungle and the jungle people; and those of us called to live in Europe love Europe and the European people.

Mission does not automatically equal suffering.  The suffering and troubles that Jesus warned about was persecutions.  Anywhere you meet the enemy and people influenced by the enemy, you’ll encounter resistance, trouble, and sometimes persecution.  Missionaries suffer hardship wherever they are.  I have had to learn to sleep sitting straight up on buses, trains, and planes, often missing meals—that’s hardship.  Giving up my house, and leaving my family—especially my grandson—is hardship.  But I know that I will be compensated:

Then Peter spoke up, “We have left everything to follow you!”

“Truly I tell you,” Jesus replied, “no one who has left home or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields for me and the gospel will fail to receive a hundred times as much in this present age: homes, brothers, sisters, mothers, children and fields [and grandchildren]—along with persecutions—and in the age to come eternal life,” (Mark 10:28-30, emphasis mine).

Please, friends, help me get the word out:  Europe is a mission field full of people who need Jesus.